


Wild Nature

by quantumvelvet



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Transformation, Type: Body Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumvelvet/pseuds/quantumvelvet
Summary: As she acclimates to a life of peace, Catra finds herself changing, and not necessarily for the better.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22
Collections: Multifandom Horror Exchange (2020)





	Wild Nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunarium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/gifts).



It starts as a restless, buzzing energy beneath her skin. It jolts her awake not quite an hour past midnight, ears pricked and tail lashing, the last remnants of a dream of chasing _something_ through a dark wood clinging tightly enough that the shift of the curtains in the breeze from the open window has her springing from the bed to land in a crouch, one clawed hand lashing out at the fabric before her conscious mind catches up with her.

The covers stir, and Adora mutters a plaintive, “Come back to bed,” her voice thick with sleep. For a long moment, Catra just stands by the window, scowling at the curtains in vaguely disappointed irritation. The bed creaks as Adora levers herself up on one elbow, squinting against the darkness. “Catra?”

“Thought I heard something,” Catra replies, shoulders drawing up defensively. But Adora just nods, as though this makes perfect sense, and flops back onto the mattress.

After a moment, with one last glare at the offending drapery, Catra joins her, snuggling up against her side and breathing in the familiar scent. Adora's arm snugs around her waist, breathing slowing as she drops back into sleep. It takes much longer for Catra to follow, and her sleep for the rest of the night is fragmented, interspersed with dreams of racing through the dark.

***

For once, she rises before Adora does, leaving her cocooned in the blankets in the middle of their shared bed to slip down to the kitchen to filch some breakfast. Her stomach growls as she rummages through the coldbox, and it's not until she's tucking the butcher's paper far enough down into the wastebin that it might escape notice that she catches sight of the smears of red on her fingers and realizes she hadn't stopped to cook the steak before eating it. She grimaces, running her tongue over her teeth to catch a stray scrap of meat caught on one fang, and thanks what little luck she has that no one's around to bear witness. The teasing about one mouse years ago is bad enough, and only Adora knows that story. “The Horde girl eats raw meat” would spread through Brightmoon Castle like wildfire.

A scuffed footstep in the hallway alerts her to the approach of one of the kitchen staff, and she darts out the side door, ears flattened and tail puffed up to twice its normal size.

***

The restlessness persists into the morning, scraping at her nerves and sending her jumping at shadows. The princesses, Adora included, are all busy with meetings, working to repair the damage done by Horde Prime's occupation and get the supply chains running again. She seeks out the guards training in the courtyard instead. It's not the first time she's joined them, but even after several weeks in Brightmoon, to say nothing of the months she's spent with the rebellion, many of them eye her warily. It's one of the younger guards, not quite settled in their fellowship, who consents to spar with her, and at first it seems to be going well. She dodges most blows and lands a few – the guard isn't terrible, but her inexperience is clear enough.

Clear to her, too, and the more frustrated she gets, the wilder her swings. It becomes a game – get just within range, then dart away at the last moment, keep the woman spinning, trying to track her. She's just a little too slow on one dodge, and the guard's staff connects hard, catching her in the side and sending sharp spikes of pain radiating along her ribcage. Her vision blurs, then washes red, and the next thing she knows someone's hauling her back – and when did Bow get here, and why is he bleeding from three thin gashes on his upper arm?

It's not until she sees the guard curled fetal on the ground, bleeding from a dozen different wounds, that she realizes he must have intervened to pull her off. The blend of anger and concern in his expression makes her stomach twist, and she jerks herself out of his hold and bolts, scrambling deeper into the palace grounds to find somewhere to hole up.

It's not the first time she's hurt someone. It's not even the first time she's hurt someone badly. But it's been a long time since she's done so without actual intent, and even though she knows what must have happened, the memories are a blur of pain and anger and the overwhelming need to eliminate a threat.

***

It's midafternoon before Adora finds her, curled up at the base of the castle's spire. Catra catches her scent before she arrives, but doesn't look up until the shadow falls over her.

“What happened?” Adora's voice is sharp, angry.

“I don't know,” she mumbles, hunching in further on herself as she glances away, fixing her gaze on a patch of rainbow where the sun reflects off of polished stone.

“What do you _mean_ you don't know? You hurt Bow. You could have _killed_ that guard.”

“I don't know!” Catra repeats, loud enough this time that she winces at the sound of her own voice. “I don't remember. One second, we were sparring, and then Bow was pulling me away. I don't remember lashing out at him. I don't remember anything after she hit me.”

There's a long pause, and then Adora steps closer, kneeling down to catch Catra's chin in her grasp and peer searchingly into her eyes. “You really don't remember?”

It takes a moment before Catra realizes what she must be looking for. “Prime's gone. You destroyed every last trace of him.”

“Maybe, but there could be side effects.”

“Does anyone _else_ have side effects?”

“Not that I know of,” Adora admits. “I'll talk to Entrapta. If anyone knows, she will. In the meantime, no more sparring, okay? Just until we figure this out.”

“I guess,” Catra allows, and reaches up to pull Adora into a kiss.

After a moment, Adora winces and pulls back, lifting a hand to her lip. It comes away with a spot of blood on it. “Caught myself on one of your fangs,” she says, and though she sounds chagrined, there's a touch of concern in her eyes.

***

Entrapta's not available until late that evening, and when Adora returns to their shared bedroom from the makeshift communications room, it's with a look of frustrated concern in her eyes.

“So,” Catra says from where she's perched on the window sill, taking in the scent of the evening breeze. “There _is_ something wrong with everyone who was chipped?”

Adora shakes her head, and exhales a slow, steadying breath. “No. Entrapta says everyone who was freed from Prime's control has returned to normal. There shouldn't be any lingering effects.

Catra frowns, eyeing her quizzically. “Isn't that a  _good_ thing? No weird technology controlling me. No ghost of Prime coming back to make everyone's lives miserable again.”

“I guess. But it means we still don't know why you went berserk.”

“I had some weird dreams last night,” Catra admits. “I probably just didn't get enough sleep last night. You know how cranky I get when I'm sleepy.”

Adora snorts in amusement, though shadows of concern still linger around her eyes. “You're impossible when you're tired,” she agrees.

Catra grins, and hops down from the windowsill to saunter over, wrapping her arms around Adora's waist and hoping against hope that the tension thrumming through her doesn't show. “I bet I know how we can make sure I get a good night's sleep.”

***

That night, Catra jolts awake again from dreams of stalking something through the midnight wood, muscles tense and claws digging deep into the bedclothes. Spikes of pain shoot along her jaw, and when she untangles one hand from her sheets to massage away the ache, her finger catches on one of her upper fangs. She swallows a yelp of startled pain, and kicks away the sheets to slide out of bed and make for the mirror on the dresser across the room. Her back spasms as she rises, refusing to properly straighten, and she makes it only a few steps before her legs buckle with a hideous snapping, tearing sound as her knees bend in entirely the wrong way.

This time, she can't bite back her cry of pain as she curls in on herself, skin twitching and bones cracking. She clutches at her own arms, trying to hold herself steady, to hold back the twisting of her frame by sheer force of will. Her hands spasm, fingers seeming to pull back as her claws lengthen, tearing at her own skin. Dimly, above the roaring in her ears and the sound of muscle and bone and organ shifting, she hears Adora calling her name.

“Gegk – gegk...” The words won't come. Her jaw feels like it's breaking, her teeth lacerate her tongue. She can taste her own blood. She can smell Adora, coming closer, and her stomach rumbles at the combination of taste and scent, saliva dripping from her rapidly reforming mouth.

_Have to get away, have to get away..._

She thrashes onto her side, limbs twitching and flailing until with one last great, wrenching shudder, her body locks into its new shape. She scrabbles back to her feet – all four feet now – ears pinned to her head and tail lashing.

“Catra?” the blonde food – _no, not food, not food, Adora_ – says, reaching out towards her.

Catra crouches with her belly to the floor, struggling against herself –  _food threat rip tear eat run_ . Adora takes another step towards her, and with a warning roar, she wheels about and flees, launching herself through the open window. She lands several storeys below, stumbling momentarily over her paws. Behind her, lights are blooming inside the castle, princesses and guards and servants all roused by the commotion.  _Food fight flee._

With the last of her control, the large black cat bolts away from Brightmoon Castle and into the Whispering Woods.


End file.
